


Pink

by Inverse Calico (SmartyCat)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor, Oral Sex, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartyCat/pseuds/Inverse%20Calico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had touched plenty of times before: formal greetings and acknowledgement; the occasional dance; fast and gripping in hazardous situations; casual touches as they shifted towards something like friendship; and now soft, intimate, longing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 Church of Lemons on the Love Reflection II mailing list. This isn't what I'd originally planned to submit, but I was sick so, rather than write a new idea from the beginning, I opted to dig out, dust off, and finish up an old lemon from 2004-2005. It isn't all that plotty despite the wordcount, and there are some threads that kind of fade off into nowhere, but it's got some fluff and slapstick to it. Hope you enjoy it! All comments and criticisms are welcome so feel free to rip it up in every possible fashion and critique it to pieces if you are so inclined.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Gundam Wing is owned by Sunrise and Sotsu Agency and distributed in America exclusively under license by Bandai Entertainment. It's not mine. Believe me, I could use the cash.
> 
> **Completed:** March 5, 2012

The entire world had turned pink.

It was perfect, absolutely perfect, and she said as much aloud.

"Miss Relena, I do believe you're exaggerating just a bit."

A chuckle from the front seat drew her attention to the beloved, stooped figure of her childhood retainer. Relena cupped her cheek with her elbow braced against the widow of the car and turned to grin at her elderly retainer, her eyebrows raised in question.

"Surely I'm entitled to exaggerate occasionally. You disagree though?"

"Miss Relena does not have to do the raking," Pagan intoned with a mournful shake of his head. "However pretty they may be, they are equally messy."

How good it felt to be going home. A tiny self-satisfied smile curled her lips as the car left the sheltering tree line for the open ground leading to the Darlian mansion. "If I remember correctly, you don't either. Yard work is not among your extensive and quite impressive repertoire, unless you've been hiding something from me."

"Please, Miss Relena, allow an old man to keep his secrets."

"Ah, but the thought of your skill with a rake intrigues me!" she exclaimed as the car pulled to a stop in front of her parents' home.

"Such familiarity from an employer," he chided her with mock disapproval while opening the door. but his eyes twinkled beneath their sheltering bushy brows.

"Such impertinence from the hired help," Relena returned with exaggerated sorrow as she accepted his proffered hand and stepped forward from the air-conditioned confines of her infamously pink limo.

She arched her back and stretched her arms luxuriously above her head before twirling in the warm spring air. The sun caressed her exposed head, and she shielded her eyes from the glare as she inhaled deeply and gazed down the drive at the southern orchard.

With spring came the cherry blossoms and her yearly return to her childhood home in Japan for a couple of weeks of gloriously scented sanctuary. Spring was a time of rebirth, rejuvenation, and relaxation, and Relena fully intended to make the most of it. No schedules, no meetings, no reports, and no press conferences for two whole weeks. Just good food, sleep, privacy, and the flowers, always the flowers. No press, no paparazzi, and only the most trusted, most discrete people in her mother's employ to see to her every whim and happiness.

It was enough to make a girl spoiled.

"And I'm more than ready for it," she murmured wryly before turning and bounding up the mansion's front steps to greet her mother.

x_x_x_x_x

Relena stretched luxuriously, curling both her toes against her feet as well as her tongue against the roof of her mouth like a lazy housecat. How glorious was it to do next to nothing for four whole days? Glorious enough to drive her crazy.

She slipped into a light sundress, lacing the fake corset strings in the back as she padded barefoot down the main stairway. The soft, finely woven cotton flowed around her legs in delicate, caressing whorls, and she bounced playfully as she reached the landing. Relena's line of work—composed, businesslike, prim, under constant scrutiny for signs of weakness—didn't leave her with much time to wear such dresses.

Pagan was nowhere to be found as her toes connected with the smooth, chilly flagstones of the kitchen, although the lilt of her mother's voice accompanied by the rich chords of a piano gave her some clue as to his whereabouts.

No matter. She was quite capable of arranging some semblance of a decent lunch for herself. 

As she ran an orange through the juicer, Relena became aware of a dark figure outside and just skirting the edge of her vision. She turned her head curiously. A gardener, just a gardener. 

Her eyes narrowed. On the veranda? 

Oh, there were a few hanging plants, climbing ivies, and small decorative trees scattered artfully across it in large clay pots, but those were artfully maintained with small clippers, not the giant shears dangling from this man's hands. 

It did occur to her to be concerned about his questionable actions. One did not attain Relena's stature without at least being aware of the risks one took. Relena knew that her mother had let all but the oldest and most trusted staff off on vacation for the sake of her own privacy, and she strongly suspected that the experience and professionalism necessary for such esteem did not include treating the veranda plants with something that massive. In the right hands they could probably be quite deadly. However, among Relena's many flaws was a conscious disregard for her own safety, particularly when the welfare of others could be at stake.

She snatched up the freshly squeezed glass of juice before throwing open the doors onto the veranda and stepping forward with an extravagant yawn. She kept her eyes rolled to the side, noting how swiftly the figure darted behind one of the trees and began making clipping motions. However, while the shears clicked together and apart rhythmically, there was no answering snap of cut wood. 

Relena strolled over to the tree in question, somewhat dumbfounded as the gardener slipped around it, keeping the foliage blocking his countenance. They circled the tree several times with no aggressive moves, only a hurried retreat, on the strange gardener's part before Relena stopped in her tracks. He didn't, however, and she caught a flash of untidy brown hair breaking free from his cap in the split second before he quickly reversed his step and began making the mock clipping noises on the other side of the tree. 

Her eyes narrowed as her mouth twisted into something between a wry smile and an exasperated bearing of teeth. This was ridiculous!

"Excuse me. Excuse me!" she said more loudly when no response was forthcoming. "Would you like a drink? I've brought you some juice."

Long seconds of utter stillness and silence came from the other side of the tree, and just when Relena was almost ready to lose her temper and lunge through the branches, a sun-browned hand slowly reached around the tree, fingers loose and open. She admired it as she eased the glass between those waiting fingers: capable, with the buildup of old calluses in strategic points across the palm, but with long, elegant fingers. The nails were strong, blunt tipped, and neatly cut, though still long enough to prove useful should the need arise. However, the study of contrasts that made up that hand was missing one key detail. The nails and skin were impeccably clean; no gardener's dirt there.

Got you, Relena thought smugly. She smiled, waiting while the orange juice disappeared on the other side of the tree. After several moments of silence the empty glass was extended back to her.

"Thank you," came the grudgingly given response. The words were softly spoken, barely audible unless one was straining one's hearing for every possible sound, syllable, and clue of voice, and Relena raised her eyebrows. Really, Heero, she thought, manners.

"You're quite welcome. It is rather warm out today, and I imagine it must be tiring to clip trees and such under the open sun." She dimpled out of his sight as an idea came to her and moved back one large step, away from the outstretched arm and empty glass. "Are you hungry, too? I'm going to eat a picnic lunch, and it'd be lovely to have some company."

"It wouldn't be proper," he muttered.

"You forget where you are, Mr. Gardener. I'm sorry; I don't believe I caught your name. Anyway, lunch is quite acceptable. Mother has Wednesday brunch with your superior every week. Surely, her daughter can dine with you just this once."

He did not respond.

"Please? I would be grateful for the company, and I promise it won't jeopardize your position."

"... if you wish." 

Never had an invitation been so reluctantly accepted, and it was all Relena could do to keep from crowing in triumph. She bounced on the balls of her feet, a wide, thoroughly ridiculous grin on her face that he couldn't see.

"Wonderful! I'll just go collect everything. You can leave that glass in the kitchen sink. Someone will see to it later. Oh, and do put those shears down. You won't be needing them on a picnic."

She turned away without waiting for a reply, stepping lightly across the veranda and back into the kitchen. He would have to follow her now. The corners of her mouth twitched as heavier boot steps echoed her own barefoot padding.

Relena flung open the pantry doors and stared at its long, full shelves, her mouth pursed. "What would you like?" she called over her shoulder.

"Whatever you want is fine."

She rolled her eyes, suppressed an exasperated sigh, and shoved her hair back over her shoulder before turning around to see him standing stiffly at the sink, his back to her.

"You are an exceptionally shy one, aren't you?" she mused aloud as she crossed to the massive refrigerator, shivering as the cold air seeped through her thin dress. "You're allowed to have an opinion, you know. I'm not your commander, and you're not my soldier."

She gazed at him from the corners of her eyes, watching his posture tighten as the words hit home. She grinned as she knelt on the floor, leaning far into the refrigerator and emerging with a container of Pagan's marvelous chilled tuna salad.

"Like what you see?" she asked offhandedly, tugging her skirt back over her legs but not bothering to stand up.

"What?" He sounded strangled, appalled.

"The wonders of glass. Marvelous reflective properties given proper lighting," she explained. "You can watch someone without them knowing... unless, of course, that someone spent her formative years thieving from the cooks and knows every angle visible from any reflective surface in this room."

"I wasn't—"

"You were," she rebuked him gently. "You see, you have a reflection, too. I can see your eyes and use them to extrapolate where you might be looking, in this case, at me. You have quite nice eyes, actually. There's no need to hide them, Heero."

His reflection glared at her before he turned around and leveled the full force of his gaze on her. "How long have you known?"

Relena shrugged. "Your behavior was quite suspicious for a gardener. You made a much more believable flight mechanic. Shall I give you details?"

"Later. After you explain why you approached a suspicious person who was carrying a weapon."

"Honestly, Heero, this is my home! If I'm not safe here, I'm not safe anywhere."

"You're not safe anywhere, Relena," he stated flatly, watching her through narrowed eyes as she clambered to her feet.

"Yes, I am. Without vanity, I can honestly say that I am loved by a large portion of the population, and that is a very odd thing, believe me," she disagreed with quiet intensity, shoving a loaf of bread into his hands. "Furthermore, I'm always watched, everywhere I go. You think I don't know that certain special staff make appearances when I'm around? A significant portion of the time, it's you there were watching me, and there is no one I'd trust more with my safety than you."

Heero mentally foundered at her matter-of-fact statement of confidence, at a loss for words.

"How long have you been here anyway?" Relena inquired. "I know that just because I only noticed you today doesn't mean that you weren't around before."

"The whole time." He shrugged, spooning some of whatever concoction she had handed him onto the slices of bread as she directed him.

She blinked. "I think I would have noticed if you were on top of the car. Were you in the trunk?"

Heero couldn't quite suppress the amused quiver of his shoulders. "We arrived separately. I got here first and secured the perimeter."

"And swept the house and terrorized the staff, I'm sure. Tell me, Heero, what does my mother think of you?"

Again Heero appeared obviously unbalanced by the unexpected question and muttered only, "That is irrelevant."

"Not when we're in her home," Relena disagreed.

"Your safety is my only priority. I do not require parental approval."

"Wrong answer," Relena muttered softly. "Not a bad answer, but wrong nonetheless."

Deciding that the discussion was over, she then focused all her attention on instructing Heero in the proper and solemn art of picnic preparation. He obeyed her directions with an unquestioning promptness that was both endearing and amusing, and she left him to figure out how to pack all the food into the picnic basket she had produced while she flipped rapidly through the intercom system to inform Pagan of her plans.

"Heero's going with me," she added with seeming nonchalance at the end to let him know that she wasn't pleased at being kept in the dark.

Pagan's words were careful. "Very good, miss. Have a nice time."

"Thank you, Pagan. Oh, please, arrange for an extra person at supper. Mr. Yuy is a guest here. We should treat him as such."

"Yes, ma'am," he again responded to the subtle disapproval in his voice.

"I'm not," Heero interjected curtly.

Relena released the intercom button so Pagan would not hear the disagreement and rounded on Heero. "I say you are, so you are."

"My purpose here is to protect you."

"Yes, yes, but must it always be from the shadows? Surely I'd be just as safe, if not safer, with you sitting at my side than if you were lurking in a corner."

"I wouldn't be lurking."

"What would you be doing then?"

He glared darkly.

"Cooking?" Relena continued as she walked past him. "Hiding under the table? Serving supper? Ah ha!" She grinned triumphantly as the subtle shift of his facial muscles gave him away. "How did you plan to keep me from recognizing you then?"

"You wouldn't have."

"Maybe, maybe not. This is better though, you'll see," she responded, tucking a folded blanket over her forearm and sliding her feet into a pair of sandals by the kitchen door. " Now come on! You can carry the basket."

She set off without a backward glance, and after staring after her ruefully, he snatched their lunch from the countertop and followed. Relena strode around the back of the house, taking a detour to the kennels where she released her mother's prized sheepdogs before setting off down the massive sloping back lawn. The four big gray and white dogs gamboled around the pair, swarming Heero with open curiosity.

Relena spun in a circle in front of him, all golden hair, blue eyes, flying skirt, and flashing teeth. She laughed at him as he forged through the small pack of nose-poking, licking, bouncing sheepdogs with forced indifference.

"Come on, puppies!" she cried and broke into a jog.

The dogs immediately veered away and followed after her in a rolling lope, and Heero also lengthened his stride to shorten the distance between them. His eyes scanned their surroundings relentlessly as Relena led them farther from the main house. It was open lawn, closely cropped. No chance of an attacker (or protector) sneaking up on her or being able to hide in grass that short, but there could be snipers in the orchards and woods lining the edges of the open lawn. Heero would stay on his guard.

Relena stopped in the shade of a single massive maple that stood freely in the center of the otherwise unbroken green.

"This is a nice spot," she said offhandedly, shooing the dogs away and shaking out the blanket.

"Yeah," Heero agreed, shoving her down directly in front of the tree's trunk. With the old butler in the house, no aggressors were likely to come from that direction, and the broad trunk would shelter Relena from any rear attacks short of a rocket launcher. He could cover the sides.

She eyed him warily as he sat down across from her, eyes constantly roving off to distant points on the property. She sighed. "Vacations are meant to be relaxing, Heero."

"I'm not on vacation," he reminded her.

"It's very tiring just watching you."

He didn't respond, pulling out the containers of their lunch mechanically without looking at them. His attention only snapped back to focus on what was right in front of him when she stood up suddenly. He immediately started to surge to his feet, but her hand on his shoulder stopped him with electric force.

"Just sit down. It's fine." She stepped away from the tree, beckoning the dogs to her before glancing back at Heero. She flapped one hand vaguely in the direction of the tree line. "It's all that back there you're concerned with, correct?"

He gave a barely perceptible nod, still coiled to bring her to the ground at an instant's notice.

"Very well then." She placed each hand on one canine head, calling the two dogs by their names. They focused on her immediately, and she pointed to the trees on the right, commanding them and sweeping her extended arm to the left. The dogs took off and Relena turned around, repeating the process with the remaining two dogs, this time sweeping her arm to the right. The second pair bolted obediently in the opposite direction from the first, and Relena stared down at Heero. "Are you satisfied now?"

His brow furrowed as he tried to ignore the light filtering through the thin fabric of her dress and clearly silhouetting her body. She expected a response, he could see that in every single feminine line and curve, but what was the question again?

"The dogs," he began haltingly, just to say something, "know directions."

"They're sheepdogs. Following directions is a fundamental part of their being." Relena laughed. "If there's anyone back there, they'll drive them out to us.

She sat down, and he closed his eyes briefly, grateful, before snapping them back open again. The image of her silhouette had somehow been tattooed on the backs of his eyelids without him realizing it.

Feeling deeply uncomfortable with himself, Heero again resorted to asking questions about the dogs to fill the silence. "Are they aggressive to intruders?"

Relena shrugged. "Depends on the intruder, I suppose. They've got deep voices though, and they're big."

"You do not worry for their safety?"

She looked at him with open irritation. "I've told you, there's nothing to be worried about."

At that moment a cacophony of barking broke out. A woman shrieked somewhere, and two figures broke from the center of the trees, the four dogs, having apparently met up, streaming behind them.

Heero whipped out his gun and shoved Relena face first to the ground, crouching over her.

"Heero," she said with infinite patience, her voice muffled by her mouth's forced proximity to the grass, subtle annoyance licking at the edges of it, "the dogs aren't attacking, are they?"

He grunted, and she forced her head up.

"In fact, they seem to be playing, don't they? Quite happy?" she continued rationally.

He grunted again, fingers loosening fractionally on the back of her dress.

The fleeing figures resolved themselves into an older man dressed in the same jumpsuit Heero wore as a part of his stint as a gardener and a matronly woman in a modest black dress, whose buttons were noticeably askew.

Relena quivered beneath Heero's hands, and he soothed her with an unconscious stroke of his fingers down her spine to the flare of her hips. She stiffened, and her head swung around, eyes locking with his in open shock. He stared back at her wide-eyed as he realized what he'd done, although he did not move his hand.

The woman, now loudly cursing in French, and her companion fled past the tableau, the dogs bouncing around them with great pride and excitement.

"Stop, all of you! Down!"

The dogs dropped at Relena's commands, rolling their eyes back at her anxiously while their two human targets turned around slowly, identical looks of horror plastered on their faces.

"Miss Relena!" they exclaimed in a guilty chorus, but their rush to explain died as they saw her sprawled on her stomach while a fierce looking man crouched over her with a gun aimed at them.

"Mrs. Minot, Mr. Hutchinson, I'd like you to meet my bodyguard Mr. Yuy. Mr. Yuy, the housekeeper and head gardener. I believe you should've met already?"

"Pleasure," Heero replied bluntly, lowering his gun and allowing Relena to raise herself up onto her elbows.

"Likewise / How do you do?" they responded weakly, eyes averted and faces flushed, though it was impossible to tell whether from exertion or embarrassment.

"Whatever were you doing out there?" Relena asked.

"Miss Relena!" the housekeeper responded in a pained manner.

Relena smiled, not unkindly. "Your buttons, Mrs. Minot," she chided gently.

The woman's and her companion's gazes flew to her chest. They both blanched.

"Please, madam, it was all my doing." Mr. Hutchinson stepped in front of Mrs. Minot and bowed deeply. "I accept full responsibility. If someone must go, it should be me."

"Who says I'm going to dismiss anyone? You must realize that I am in just as uncomfortable and disconcerting position as you are." Relena drummed her fingers against the ground and slid her eyes to the overzealous guard still crouched beside her prone form. "There are, however, repercussions to your actions that must be addressed. As I am not the lady of the house, it is up to my mother to decide what measures will be taken. You will inform Pagan of your conduct, and he will arrange a meeting. Is that understood?"

"Yes, madam," they chorused, obviously eager to get away.

"Then you may go."

Heero and Relena watched the pair slink back to the house, Relena still stretched out on her stomach and Heero's gun dangling comfortably from his hand.

"Well, that was interesting. Shall we eat?" Relena rolled over onto her back but otherwise made no attempt to rise.

"You are not concerned?"

"About what? Those two lovebirds sneak off to engage in illicit activities in the apple orchard every spring."

"Then you were expecting the dogs to find someone?"

"Of course not. I said it was an interesting occurrence, didn't I? They usually wait until later in the afternoon. You are satisfied as to my safety out here now, however, aren't you?"

He didn't respond to that barb, only eyed her narrowly and began collecting the scattered and as yet unopened food containers. "What would you like first?"

"The grapes," she replied promptly.

He popped the lid and extended the bowl to her. She raised her eyebrows and laced her hands beneath her head.

"Relena..."

"Relaxation, Heero," she responded, with a dreamy roll of the vowels, and then chuckled. "My vacation, my every whim answered. I'll feed you, too, if you would like, just to make it fair."

"But it's too much effort to feed yourself," he pointed out, injecting as much dry humor into his tone as she'd ever heard from him.

"Exactly." She closed her eyes, smiling in smug satisfaction, and let her lips part gently.

Relena heard Heero sigh and imagined his shoulders heaving, but she waited. Over the years, they had made something of a habit of trying one another's patience and self-control. This would be no different. She was rewarded when he pulled a single grape from the bunch and slipped it between her lips. Her breath rolled over his fingertips before they connected with the silky texture of the inside of her lips, and she made a soft sigh of pleasure as her seeking tongue curled the plump grape away from his hand.

She cracked one eye open when no more grapes were forthcoming and sat up when she saw Heero chewing on a sandwich while scanning, albeit less intensely than before, their surroundings. She reached for her own sandwich with a light huff of discontent. So much for the opportunity to reciprocate and hand feed Heero. No doubt, he considered the whole thing as nothing more than a distraction taking away from her safety.

"How do you like the sandwich?"

He shot a look at her from the corner of his eyes and swallowed. "It's good. You're skilled at ordering premade ingredients put on bread."

She glared at him though the amused tilt to her mouth conceded the truth of his statement. "It's so nice to be appreciated for one's talents. Pagan also makes an excellent tuna salad."

His mouth and eyebrows quirked with humor, but his gaze had focused on the four gray and white furry sentinels sitting at sharp attention in a line in front of him. Although Relena couldn't see their eyes, she felt quite sure that the dogs' attention was riveted to the chicken leg that had paused inches from Heero's mouth.

"Relena?" he asked, hefting the chicken in question and inclining his head toward the dogs.

"The bones are bad for them. They might splinter."

He grunted and began pulling the meat from the bone, creating a neat pile on a napkin near his right knee. Relena flopped back down on her side, cupping her chin with one hand as she idly ate her sandwich. He was endearing, definitely endearing, even as he was exhausting their chicken supply.

"Do you want some?"

Her dreamy stare darted from taking in his profile and movements to sharpen on his face. "Hm?"

"Do you want any of the chicken?"

She eyed the mountain of loose meat and the quivering eagerness of her mother's pets. "No, no, you may proceed. I'd hate to deny them."

Heero whittled down his mountain, tossing pieces of chicken into each waiting gullet, a look of relaxation and contentment on his face, the likes of which Relena had never seen him exhibit before. He looked so peaceful. Her heart swelled painfully with a sweet ache. It was such a normal scene, but so abnormal for them, and that was what made it so very special.

He turned his head and their gazes collided. Relena flushed. Heero had practically caught her mooning at him, but she refused to break eye contact, and it was like being in the center of a lightning storm. Electricity prickled across her skin and danced and skipped in the air between them. She wondered if he could feel it too.

The spell was broken by an anxious whine, and they turned away from one another quickly, Heero to finish feeding the dogs and Relena rolling onto her back and throwing one arm over her eyes as she attempted to steady her breathing.

Cloth rustled followed by the gentle clink of containers, and Relena realized Heero must have been packing the food back up. Then warmth and the solid weight of a body settled alongside her, not close enough to touch but near enough to sense. It was not the familiar presence of a dog, and Relena turned her head and allowed her arm to fall away from her face. Heero lay stretched out on his back beside her, arms crossed nonchalantly under his head. His eyes were closed, and his hair fell messily across his forehead. Her fingers twitched at the temptation he presented as she rested the urge to remark about his sudden disregard for security concerns. Nothing would ruin the moment swifter than a reminder of reality and a jab at his competence.

His hair fluttered in a light breeze. He had to know that she was watching him, had to feel her eyes upon him, and she could not resist the temptation, not because she lacked suitable willpower but because she did not want to resist. 

Her fingertips had not yet touched his forehead when his eyes flew open and he grabbed her wrist in a bruising grip. She stared at him silently, unmoving beneath his stare, and his hand slowly loosened but did not fall away. Gauging his reaction to her every movement, Relena extended her hand and swept the hair from his face, his fingers still clasping her wrist and his arm moving in time with hers. When he made no protest, she continued the movement and stroked her fingers through his hair in a steady repetitive motion, a look of distant concentration settling on her face. 

He released her and settled, lips parting on a silent sigh and eyes slowly falling closed. She hardly dared to breath, shocked that he was allowing her such liberties. In repose, he looked softened and younger. It proved a stark contrast to the intensity and hard planes his face took on the majority of the time. Fleetingly, Relena wondered what her own face looked like at that moment. Oddly, she had rarely felt so raw and vulnerable, yet it was she who was taking the lead to the extent that Heero would allow it.

They had touched plenty of times before: formal greetings and acknowledgement; the occasional dance, the very picture of propriety; fast and gripping in hazardous situations, grown increasingly scarce over the years; casual touches as they shifted towards something that could almost be called friendship; and now soft, intimate, longing.

"Heero, we've known each other for quite a while now, haven't we?" she murmured and received an affirmative grunt in response. "But do we really know anything about each other?"

"The important things."

She rolled her eyes and crawled closer to him, her hand unceasing in his hair. "Humor me, Heero. What's your favorite color?"

He pressed his head into her hand, rubbing his cheekbone against her palm, and muttered, "Don't have one."

Taking encouragement from his actions, she leaned lightly across his ribcage and drew her feet into her body, effectively using him as a firmly muscled cushion. "You don't? Why? Everyone has a favorite color, even people who don't care about colors."

"It's irrelevant and frivolous," he replied promptly.

She laughed and passed her fingers across the wrinkle that appeared in his forehead. "Think about it then. I want you to tell me before we leave."

Another grunt was the only answer she received.

"What about favorite food?" she continued.

"Relena, be quiet."

"Come on, Heero! Aren't you curious about anything about me? I'd like to think that my life hasn't been a completely open book."

He opened his eyes when her fingers stopped. She crossed her arms and stared down at him with furrowed brow, clearly intending not to resume her ministrations until he caved. Heero visibly weighed his options, and Relena was hard pressed to maintain an impassive expression as he gazed wistfully at her hands.

"Why do you come back this time every year?" he said finally, turning his eyes to her face. "I've looked into it, and it's not anyone's birthday or anniversary. There's nothing special about it."

She beamed. "But there is. It's pink."

He stared at her, completely nonplussed. "What?"

She laughed and stood up. "You'll see."

She slipped her feet back into her sandals and moved the picnic basket off the blanket, staring meaningfully at her prone bodyguard. He got up reluctantly, and she gathered the blanket, sweeping it into the air and shaking it out with a snap before briskly refolding it. Heero looked at her with mild surprise when she thrust the folded blanket into his arms atop the basket. She grinned at him, beckoned to the dogs lolling on the grass around them who sprang to alertness at her signal, lifted her skirt, and took off towards the house. 

Her bare legs glowed palest-gold in the light as she ran, weaving and dodging the animals running alongside her with practiced ease. This strange game of almost-tag was obviously a familiar ritual to both human and dogs, so perfectly choreographed and enacted that no matter how erratically they intertwined at breakneck speed there were no collisions. It stopped as suddenly as it began with the animals breaking away at some subtle signal and Relena slamming to a stop and pirouetting in place, skirt flaring to reveal a hint of smooth thigh and hair swirling around her in a silken cape.

Heero stared after her, speechless, and she fidgeted in place, toying with the skirt she still held in one hand.

"Heero! Are you coming?"

She waited as he trudged up to her at a more moderate pace, studiously avoiding letting his eyes wander to the exposed expanse of her shapely legs.

"Be happy, Heero. It's spring, and the world is new again."

"Only in this hemisphere, and I'm still working."

"Aren't you clever," Relena muttered. She cocked her head, full lips ripening and turning up as she raised her voice. "As are we all. I'm working very industriously to get you to loosen up a little. You can still relax and enjoy yourself while you're here. It's really quite safe."

She raised her hand, brushing her fingertips across his forehead with tenderness and newfound familiarity. His eyes closed and he pushed into her touch unconsciously.

"I'll show you why I come back now."

Relena took the blanket back from him and grabbed his hand. Her hand around his was warm and soft, delicate but strong. He flexed his fingers within the loose cage made by hers, then rubbed his thumb experimentally across her knuckles. She squeezed back in acknowledgment and tugged lightly, leading him down the back of the house to the east end, the dogs ambling alongside.

"There, that's why." She could not point with one hand clasped around his and her other resting on a large furry head, but she inclined her head.

"It's... pink…."

"Precisely." Her voice was distinctly smug.

"What are they?"

"You don't know?" Her head whipped in amazement, and she stared at him agog. He shuffled back a half-step, stretching their arms between them, and she quickly apologized. "Sorry, you remind me so much of a boy I knew when I was younger that I forget that you haven't really spent that much time on Earth under the best circumstances. They're sakura. Cherrie blossoms. They can be white as well, but we only have the pink ones. The springtime blooming is quite famous on Earth. I come back home every year for them."

"You haven't been down there yet."

"It's not time yet. I'll go when the time is right."

He eyed her suspiciously, but she simply turned away, walking back to the house. He followed her into the kitchen and set down the remains of their picnic. Relena paused on the kitchen threshold while the dogs vanished into the depths of the house.

"I'd like to be alone now, Heero." She inclined her head in a clear instruction for them to go their separate ways. "Make yourself at home. I'll see you at supper, sitting at the table this time. Not under it, not lurking in the shadows, and not serving."

x_x_x_x_x

Later that night, Relena lay in bed and stared up at the shadows on her ceiling, unable to sleep, thinking, restless. Heero had proven surprisingly, well, not charming, but civil that evening. He treated her mother most graciously, and Relena did not bother to hide the fact that she watched his interactions with her mother, Pagan, and the other staff. The training he had undergone to blend in with high society was clear. His attitude and demeanor were a bit uncouth certainly, rather too abrupt, but a face like his went a long way towards redeeming him of his sins. He knew which fork to use and the proper mannerisms and polite nothings of appropriate supper conversation. Her mother approved of him; Relena could tell. She might even go so far as to say that her mother had been fascinated by him. Like mother, like daughter, Relena supposed. It was heartening.

And it was time. The night orchard awaited.

She did not bother to check the clock as she slid out from between the sheets. The hour did not matter. It was time. The silver light streaming in through the sheer window curtain proved a compelling siren's call she could not and would not think of disobeying. Restlessness resolved itself into purpose as she dressed, grabbing a yukata thrown across a chair and belting it hastily. Her mother would strongly disapprove of Relena's improper dress, but these secret nights had always belonged to Relena alone.

The house echoed with the silence of deep night as she slipped down hallways and through doors, following the silver ribbons of her moonlit path.

x_x_x_x_x

One of the dogs—he could not possibly tell them apart—stiffened suddenly beneath his scratching fingers and whined. Heero heard the soft click of a door closing and withdrew his hands from between the chain links of the kennel. He drew his omnipresent gun and slipped easily into the enveloping shadows of the house. He rounded the corner at a swift, nearly silent glide on the well manicured lawn, weapon held at the ready. It had been impossible to determine from the sound of the door closing whether someone was entering or exiting the mansion, and he swept his gaze out across the yard.

He froze.

Relena sailed across the grass with smooth purpose like some apparition, her hair touched silver by the moonlight. He followed as, without a single backward glance, she entered the copse of cherry trees he had asked about earlier. 

A path ran through the trees, bare earth beaten by years of footsteps. Clusters of woodland grass and moss grew in the perpetual shade. The moonlight shone through the blossoms, tinting everything a surreal and softly glowing silvery pink. In some strange way that he could not define, Relena, golden, iron-willed Relena with her love of all things bright pink, belonged there among the muted landscape. She seemed softer, just fitting in somehow with the spring night, and the flower-laden boughs bowed and reached to caress her in the gentle breeze. She walked on, oblivious to Heero following behind her. 

There was a break in the tree line ahead, and he slowed. A wide, circular swath of moonlight illuminated the smooth stones of an open-air gazebo. The tiled design of the floor was flanked by Grecian columns that reached up to the open sky and framed the pink trees all around. Fallen petals littered the gazebo, and the scent rose with each step of Relena's feet, bruising the delicate blossoms and releasing the smell.

The night, the moonlight, the velvety warmth of the spring air, and the intoxicating scent of the cherry blossoms all served to cast a spell on those denied by sleep.

Relena stopped in the center of the gazebo and turned slowly, face turned upward to the watching moon, baring the smooth line of her throat. Heero swallowed, hard. Goddess. She was some timeless ephemeral goddess; she had to be with her arms spread and hands upraised as if to draw the night down into her embrace it. The breeze picked up briefly, swirling and fluttering the fallen sakura around her bare feet, and she laughed, a graceful silvery sound. She followed the flower eddy with a twirl before beginning to dance to some music that only she could hear.

As she passed by his hiding place, standing stupefied but conveniently in the shadows, Heero realized that she was humming in time to the movements of her body. The simple tune echoed in his mind and thrummed in his blood. All the activity was causing Relena's yukata to slip, revealing a large expanse of bare skin painted by moonlight. Heero swallowed hard, his throat dry, while his eyes followed firm calves, exposed knees, the flash of pale thighs near the juncture of her legs, and then upwards to a hint of shoulders and collarbone. He was only a man after all, just a man, still a young and rather virile one, and although he had been conditioned from a young age to ignore enticements of the flesh, it didn't make it any easier when there was absolutely nothing standing in the way between him and those enticements.

With Relena's continued exertions, the yukata's neckline loosened, exposing her shoulders and a deep vee down her front. The material clung tenaciously to her breasts, however, and Heero did not blame it. Relena flowed to a stop, her humming coming to an end. One hand rose to hover over the sash holding her yukata closed while she swayed in place. She lifted her head, eyes falling closed, and Heero stopped breathing as her other hand also rose and met its partner. Her fingers plucked at the knot, and he stepped closer in spite of himself. The material untwined, and the sash loosened, slithering down her legs as the yukata fell open. Face still uplifted and eyes still closed, Relena slipped the garment off her shoulders and allowed it to fall in a puddle of silver pink cotton at her feet. She wore nothing underneath, and the moonlight and the night's only obstacle to complete access to her body was the inadequate curtain of her hair.

Nothing in Heero's extensive training had prepared him for this. He was to be versatile and flexible, to adapt to the situation as necessary and ignore any distractions. Up until now that list of things to ignore had included the temptations of the pleasures of the flesh. He had been taught to rebuff physical advances as obstacles to completing his mission, and now he didn't know what to do. Relena was hardly advancing, but his reaction was most definitely physical. 

Even as he pondered the wisdom of just standing and watching to desensitize him to her presence, his feet guided him forward. He did not concern himself with being quiet, though he was. Relena saw him moving from the corner of her eye and turned. She did not cover herself, and his eyes raked down her body before returning with great effort to her face. She stood calm and poised and completely naked, her eyes tranquil blue pools. Heero saw the flicker that marked his reflection in them and drew closer still. She tilted her head as he loomed over her, his face in shadow, hers bathed in moonlight. There was no surprise to see him before her, only acceptance.

She raised her hand, running her fingertips across his lips before stroking up his jaw and cupping his face. He shuddered, and his head dipped toward her lips at her bidding.

"Relena?"

"Hush, I'm dreaming," she murmured softly, closing the distance between them.

Heero didn't think so. If anyone was dreaming, it must be him, and he'd never had a dream like this before. However, he thought that now his every night would be filled with memories and imaginings of this. And then he didn't think anymore.

The night air and her drying sweat had chilled her skin, and he scuffed his hands along it, feeling it warm beneath the friction of his palms. Her mouth, however, was not at all cold. It proved to be warm, hot even, welcoming. 

His skin flared into electrical awareness at the slide of her lips on his, and he enveloped her and deepened the kiss. Heero cataloged the sensations of her in his arms, each heated sweep of skin, the taste of her mouth and her sweat, the way her curves so sweetly compressed his body, the dizzying scent of the cherry blossoms inundating her every pore.

She squirmed against him, a needy whimper building in her throat and echoing in his own. There was a living, breathing, wriggling, naked Relena in his arms and he had no clue what to do with her.

She gasped as her hips came into contact with his.

Okay, so maybe he did know what to do with her. He was inundated with a few ideas accompanied by graphic images at least. But putting them into practice?

"This is wrong," he murmured against the soft skin of the hollow of her throat that his lips refused to leave.

"No, can't be," she gasped, twining her fingers in his hair and urging him lower. Her voice was thick, dazed and wanting.

He nobly resisted the pressure of her hand. "Why?"

"Because it feels right."

He groaned. "That's why it's wrong."

She pulled back, shaking her head, her eyes focusing on him with a clarity they had not shown previously that night. She framed his face with her hands. "If I never get the chance to love you again, let me love you here and now in a world of my creation."

"Lo—," he started, but she put a finger to his lips. He tried again though the words seemed permanently stuck in his throat. "You lo—"

"Shhh," she whispered. "It is what it is, and we are what we are. Let it be."

"Let it be enough," he growled before slamming his mouth against hers.

His mouth moved over hers hungrily, and she melted into his arms, clutching at his back and shoulder and pulling his shirt loose. He shrugged out of that unnecessary garment with the sharp rip of multiple buttons and rejoiced at the feel of her breasts rubbing against his bare chest, the tight pebbles of her nipples tracing blazing figures on his skin with her every move.

Gently, he urged her to the ground, not wanting to bruise or scratch the flawlessness of her skin. She sprawled beneath him and drew him down, her hands stroking across his flanks while his lips fastened around one delectable nipple. She mewled, arching her back to provide him better access and clutched his buttocks tightly enough that he could feel the prick of her nails through his clothing. Heero groaned and half rose off of her, quickly unbuttoning his trousers to give himself some minor relief. She followed him up and twined one arm around his neck while the other pressed against his lower back, urging him back down against her. She thrust her hips up, and Heero ground against her while she laved the side of his neck with long strokes of her tongue.

"More," she gasped into his ear. "Please, I want you. I want your mouth."

Heero's brain proceeded to completely short-circuit at the mental images that statement produced. Seeing absolutely no reason to deny such a reasonable request, however, he removed her arms from his person, pressing them to the ground, and slid down her body. Heero knelt between her thighs, cupped her hips and bottom in his hands, and lifted her to his mouth.

She was wet and swollen, exquisitely sensitive to his touch, and pink, so very pink. Heero marveled at the bright flare of color on her heated body and dedicated his tongue to softly gliding over every inch of that slippery flesh. Relena gasped and twitched on the ground before him, guiding him with the pitch of her voice to all of her most sensitive spots. He demanded harshly that she touch herself and watched down the length of her stomach as she stroked her neck and collarbone, then slipped both hands to her breasts, kneading the flesh there and tweaking her own nipples. 

Aroused to the point of near pain and holding off his own orgasm as long as he could, Heero welcomed the exquisite torment, winding her body tighter with gentle suction and the lapping of his tongue along her clitoris until she cried out. She writhed in his arms, shudders and aftershocks running the length of her body as she climaxed. As she folded to the ground, he fumbled with his trousers, and then her hands were there again, guiding him to the heated core of her body as her legs curled around his hips. He thrust into her, the warmth and tightness like nothing he had ever felt before, and it was over quickly from there. He came undone in her arms while she stroked her hands through his hair and murmured encouragement and praise into his skin with each brush of her lips.

x_x_x_x_x

In the morning Relena awoke in her own bed with her yukata and sash where she had left them over the chair before going to bed.

Her brow furrowed, and she stared out at her room, looking for some sort of subtle shift to explain the new awareness of her body, but it looked as it always had. Her gaze fell to her hands, and she spread her fingers, seeing them clearly framed against the darker tone of Heero's skin and buried in his hair. She could still feel his hands and mouth on her body and smell the lingering scents of sakura and sex in her hair.

Relena shoved back the covers, wincing at the sore muscles that announced themselves, and strode to her mirror. Her face looked no different, her lips distinctly unkissed, her eyes no wiser. For such a vivid experience to be a dream was inconceivable, but in the light of day it seemed equally inconceivable that Heero Yuy had lost control and pleasured her on the floor of the gazebo in the orchard. 

She continued her inventory of her body, looking for signs of change and finding none. Disappointed and confused, she started to turn away when her gaze was arrested by a heretofore unnoticed spot on her hip. Relena stepped closer to the mirror, eyes wide as she examined the newly emerging bruise. She curled her arm across her body and grabbed her own hip, noting the way her own thumb seemed to naturally settle over that point.

She whirled, bolting for her bedroom door before hastily scrambling back to her closet and throwing on the first top and pair of shorts she came across. Once dressed, she flew down the stairs.

She found Heero outside on the edge of the veranda, once again dressed in his gardener's garb. He watched her approach, eyes guarded and face impassive. Wishing for once that Heero was more like the other males of her acquaintance and prone to overdone and often insincere compliments, such as telling her that if she was enchanting by moonlight then she was dazzling by sunlight, Relena marched right up to him. She lifted her face and stared straight into his eyes.

"Kiss me," she demanded.

Heero blinked and blinked again before cupping the side of her face in his palm. Relena held her breath, hardly able to believe that he would oblige her, when he touched his lips to hers. It started gently, but changed rapidly into something darker and more intense. Relena moved into the shelter of his body and opened her mouth beneath his, rejoicing at the stroke of his tongue against her own. This was familiar; she knew this.

"It wasn't a dream," she whispered when Heero drew his head back fractionally to allow them both some much needed air. Heero chuckled, a light puff of heated air against her face.

"I changed my mind," he said and pulled her into his arms again, heedless of the daylight and whoever might see them. "It wasn't anywhere near enough."

x_x_x_x_x

A little over a week later, while Pagan finished loading Relena's luggage into the car, Heero escorted her into the backseat. As she sat down and folded her long legs into the car, Relena glanced up at Heero, the very picture of mischief.

"There's a question I asked you that you still haven't told me the answer to. What's your favorite color, Heero?"

He looked back at her unsmiling, but the lines around his mouth were less severe and his eyes glowed with distinct amusement and banked desire. He slid in after her, one hand coming to rest possessively above her knee.

"It's pink."


End file.
